Take Care of Yourself, Kid
by Elsie girl
Summary: This is long awaited sequel to Babygirl, a very different Curtis sister fic. "Looking back one last time, he said one thing to me: 'Take care of yourself kid.' 'I will.' I promised him, and I made sure I did." Please read and review! author of In Bed.
1. The Quiet One

A/N: This is the long awaited sequel to the Curtis sister fic. Babygirl. If you haven't read it, I would recommend you do to avoid confusion. It's basically about how the young sister of the Curtis brothers is taken away to live with a foster family on the South side and her life there. At the end, she finally succeeds in returning to her brothers with some help. It's different so take a look, or read from here. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 1: The Quiet One

Once I returned to north side, Johnny lived for five more years. He died in his sleep in the recovery wing of Tulsa hospital on an early autumn morning. The doctors had said from the beginning that he would never really recover, but no one could blame us for dreaming. Dally was really hopeful though, if one can use such a word to describe Dallas Winston. On good days, we would all talk about how the doctors were wrong, how good Johnny was doing now, and what we would all do together once he got better. When he wasn't doing better, nobody spoke about it at all. The last week he was alive, everyone seemed particularly quiet. I suppose he could only hang on for so long. He just sort of lingered around that long for us 'cause I think he knew we needed him. Somehow he sorta sensed what would happen to us if he left. Shortly after that, Dally skipped town. None of us heard from him again. Two-Bit stayed the same old Two-Bit and Darry same old Darry, but Ponyboy was never the same.

I changed too, but it didn't happen suddenly like with Johnny's death or even with me coming back over to the North side. It kinda snuck up on me, like change sometimes will. It was so quiet and little at first, like a mouse, so that no one noticed it, but after a while people couldn't help but notice. I got older and I got tough.

Before Dallas Winston left town he came and found me and told me he was going.; so, for the first time in my life, I left school early and walked to the bus stop with him. Sitting on the bench there and waiting for his ride, he pulled out his switchblade and handed it over to me. I did not dare believe my eyes at the time. His own eyes, still bloodshot, looked me over. When I asked him if he was sure he wanted to give it to me, he nodded yes and stood to go. He hadn't spoke since the night Johnny died and I remember just wanting- for the first time actually wanting- Dally to open his mouth. I don't know what possessed me, but I nearly got on that bus with him. Looking back one last time, he said one thing to me: "Take care of yourself kid."

"I will." I promised him, and I made damn sure I did.

That's why when Curly Shepard tried to start something with me when he was drunk one night, I slammed a beer bottle up against his head so hard he had to go to the hospital to get out all of the glass.

That night, like many before, I stayed at the Mathews'. From there, Emily and I could get to work easily, a dinner downtown where we waited tables after school. In summer I worked at the stables where I used to ride. It killed me to be around those horses- around Mickey Mouse-and never be able to step one foot off the ground to mount one, but being close was better than nothing I supposed. The work itself was hard, but I liked it. I liked to feel my muscles ache. It made me feel stronger.

In spite of all my work, I still made it to school every day. My grades weren't as good as Ponyboy's, but Darry wanted me to finish and so I went. If I was tired, I went; If I was sick, I went; rain or shine, birthday or no, I went.

Sure, there were times when I wondered what life would have been like if Johnny had lived, or even sometimes if mom and dad had lived though it seemed so long ago it was hard to imagine. Other times I considered how different things would have been had I stayed on the south side with John and Milly, or what if I had left with Dally on the spur of the moment? Mostly though I wondered how things would turn out for everybody if _I_ were different, so I became something else.

Self-sufficient orphan, carrier of Dallas Winston's switchblade, friend to notorious kid murder Johnny Cade, three older brothers at home, better with cars than most guys, girl responsible for the scar on curly Shepard's eyebrow: that's how I became known around town. No one tried anything. No one dared. No one, other than my brothers and Emily, called me Baby anymore. They all just called me Kid, and that's how I liked it.

TheOutsidersTheOutsiderTheOutsidersTheOutsiders

A burning orange ball, poised above the church steeple, dared me to look at it's fire directly. I took the dare and gave it a good gaze, shocked by the salmon of its color, before looking away to see black spots dancing in my vision. I liked the autumn sun best. It warmed the skin that the cold wind whipped instead of smothering us in light and heat like the summer sun. Around me, an array of colored leaves stirred in the breeze and swirled just above the road. A car passed slowly, stirring them up into chaos and crunching some under it's black wheels. Just behind it, two more cars sped by, each passengers' yelling and jeering at the each other. I recognized the ruckus as the kind only teenage boys are capable of. I moved further on the side walk and smiled. Soc chasing Greaser, Greaser chasing Soc. Beside me, Emily turned full circle, walking backwards to watch the boys.

Up ahead, I spied a familiar shape trotting lazily up the road from the same direction we were headed. Ponyboy was a track star with a three point six g.p.a. If he studied half as much as he ran, he would have a perfect four points. He liked running though. He said that when he ran, he thought of nothing else.

Pony slowed and jogged in place when he saw me. "You headed home tonight?" he asked.

"Yeah." That was my trademark answer. It annoyed the hell out of Darry, but after all what did I have to say? Nothing really. I was the quiet one, the one who spoke only if I had something important to say, and that made people listen. It was safer too, cause if you kept your mouth shut there was less of a chance of getting yourself in trouble. It bothered some people, namely Darry, who said they never knew what I was thinking, but I thought that was the smart way to be. Johnny had once called me mysterious. I liked that. Johnny would know all about mysterious, I'd said. Still, that's about the nicest way anybody ever described me, so I tried to live up to it. Then again, I didn't consider the type of compliments greaser boys tossed out on a Saturday night at the Dingo compliments in the same way Emily did.

"Where were you last night?" Pony asked. Man he sure had gotten more like Darry and Soda, bugging me. About my every move Emily, tugging on a cigarette, answered coolly for me, more than aware of my displeasure for such useless conversation.

As different as we were, Emily and I respected each other's differences and trusted each other over everyone else. We stuck together because on this side of town, everybody has to stick with somebody. She put up the show, and I backed it up, when I had to. Between her loud mouth and my real temper, her amazing knack for lying and my sparkling reputation, we could be real wicked masterminds.

"With me. Got drunk of my ass, and Babe hung around to make sure I didn't die of alcohol poisoning." She laughed. Pony didn't.

"You weren't drinking, were you Baby?"

"Of course she wasn't!" Emily defended me, obviously mad he had asked in the first place. "She was at my house, wasn't she? Covering for me."

"Yeah, okay." Pony backed off, clearly not happy with Emily's attitude. "See you tonight." He said to me and ran on. I nodded.

"Where we headed Boss?" she asked me, stubbing out her cigarette.

"Got cash on you?" I asked.

"A little." She blew smoke ahead of us as we went on.

"You planning to spend some to drink tonight?" I asked, not afraid to come out and say it with her as she as an honest an up front person about it, like her goofy brother.

"Now you know me better than to think I'd pay for my own drinks." She smiled the way she did around the boys who bought said drinks.

I turned and headed towards the Dingo. "Good, let's eat." She responded, able to tell my intention without me having to say it. "I'm starved." she declared.

Last night though, I recalled looking sideways at her as we headed towards food, she had not looked so tuff. Last night had been Friday and all the boys were at my place so I went to hers. Staying there, I could cover for her in case her mom called home and asked where she was and get my homework done with the quiet. Meanwhile, she was at a party at Buck's. I didn't go. I knew better. She came in bawling. After a while, I managed to get out of her what had happened. Curly Shepard had been two-timing her again. Bastard.

"Oh Em, why do you always pick the roughest hoods?" I had asked her, handing over a chocolate bar.

"I don't know," she had sighed, depressed. No one saw Emily like that, except me and it was my job to get her back to normal for Saturday. I did. Once Saturday came, I wished I hadn't. If we only knew what was in store for us, we might never have headed to Dingo to begin with that night.

A/N: Well, what did you think of the introduction chapter? Let me know, review! For those of you who are wondering, Emily is Two-Bit's little sister who is Baby's age. Thanks for reading.


	2. You Drinking My Milkshake?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Outsiders. This story was written for entertainment, not profit.

A/N: Thanks for reviewing the last chapter, those who did. Also, a first version was posted earlier and reviewed but was replaced and those reviews were lost. My apologies and thank you for those as well. I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter.

**Take Care of Yourself, Kid**

**Chapter 2**: You Drinking My Milkshake?

The Dingo had the best milkshake I had ever tasted. Sitting at the bar there I sipped mine slowly. Emily devoured her burger and fries while throwing sideways flirtatious glances at the boys in a booth a little ways away from us. They sniggered, punching each other playfully, darting glances our way. They were good looking enough, but just a little too young for us. Emily was just teasing them, having a little fun, warming up for the night when the real games would begin. I grabbed one of the fries we were sharing from the blue, plastic basket. She put too much salt on them again.

The boys were going to come over to us; I could feel it, so I stood, grabbing my shake and swallowing the last of my burger. Giving Emily a look, I turned up to go. She threw back her head to swallow the rest of soda and followed me out the door, the rest of her burger in hand. We were almost out the door when something stopped us.

"Hey. Hey you!"

I paused. Emily tapped my shoulder. Shaking her off, I kept walking. I did not want a fight tonight.

"I said hey, Greaser. I'm talking to you!" I froze. On the outside, I looked cool and calm enough, but on the inside I was in a tizzy. What the heck do I do? Slowly, frowning my toughest frown, I turned to look at the antagonist. It was a tall, thin girl with brown hair. A soc by the look of her in her tight little prep school skirt and smug expression.

"Yeah?" I asked coolly.

"You drinking my milkshake?" she smirked. It was clearly a joke, bait. I didn't take it. I spat it out, figuratively, by turning again to leave.

"You hear me?" She demanded, barely containing laughter. I could tell what she was doing and it made me mad. She was testing me. Some cocky little Soc thought she was tuff over on the south side and decided to come over to north side and challenge me, make a scene. I had no choice. A greaser cannot back away from a challenge. They have their reputation to think about and around here that's what matters. I couldn't back down now. All eyes on me, I turned again to face her.

"You got a problem Soc?" I asked, voice low, head ducked dangerously just like Two-Bit did when he got mad. Leaning against the door frame, blocking anyone from entering, Emily stood behind me. She watched the exchange with an arrogant, knowing grin, but on the inside she was anxious. I could it feel it from there. She hated fights. If I could talk this Soc down, make her feel like small and foolish, we might not have to fight this girl. Something, though, told me that wasn't going to happen this time. She had come with only one friend, instead of with a posse, which meant one important thing: she was not afraid. To be honest, it kind of made me feel a little respect for her. Who was this girl anyway?

"Yeah, she laughed. I got a problem."

I paused, just long enough to make them wonder. The usually rowdy Dingo was silent, so quiet you could actually hear the quarters sliding down into the juke box in the corner. The guy slipping them in stopped. He did not press a button. Everyone waited.

I paused to let them get nervous, staring them down unwaveringly. Most people shied away from the harsh eye contact which was Dally, Steve's and Darry's secret weapon. This girl looked me right in the eye the whole time. It was like the intense part of a shoot out scene in a Western right before the cowboys draw. I could practically hear the music from High Noon whistling in the back ground.

"What's that?" I asked dryly, pretending to be amused as well.

"Can you tell me where to find somebody?"

"That depends. Who are you looking for?"

"A greaser."

"We got a lot of those around here. You're gonna have to be a little more specific." I replied. Two-Bit and Dally had both showed me that a very handy way to 'keep face', as they called it (or to stall for time in a sticky situation) was to be a smartass.

"This kid," she said coolly, taking a cigarette from her belt and lighting it up. The clerk told her not to smoke in here. She ignored him. "This greaser plays baseball."

"A lot of greasers play baseball." I told her.

"This one is good. This greaser," she laughed. "This one is gonna make it to the World Series one day."

"Maybe you should try looking on the baseball field then." I told her impatiently, ready to get out of there.

"This greaser likes Elvis. You know any greasers that like Elvis?"

"I don't know one that doesn't." That was it. I was leaving.

"This one has a nickname." She called after me. Still facing the door, I was grinding my teeth as I asked through them: "Oh yeah? What is it?"

"It's um," she laughed again. "Original. I can't remember, but their last name I know."

"What is it?" my voice was quiet and dangerous. This girl was really getting to me.

"Curtis." She said, triumphantly, watching recognition spread across my face.

"Which one?" I raised an eyebrow sharply. "What you want with them?"

"This one owes me somethin'."

"What do they owe you?"

"A name."

"A name. What do you mean a name?"

"I mean a tough name. A name like Sodapop. You know someone who owes me name, greaser?" The last word had a sick emphasis places on it, a disdainful one.

I shook my head, as puzzled as everyone else. "Nope." I answered, looking mean. What was she getting at? Was she making fun of Soda? "Do I know you?" I asked.

"Do you?" she dared. A couple people made 'ohh-ing' noises.

"What's your name?" I demanded simply.

"Guess." She dared me, blowing out smoke.

"I don't guess." I told her. "What's your name Soc?" I snapped.

"Nelly." She replied, smiling. Smiling? Wait-Nelly?

"Nelly?" I asked.

"Hey greaser, long time no see."

"Nelly?"

"Yeah. You miss me much?"

"No way." I shook my head in disbelief. She hopped down at last from her seat, cigarette tagging along, and followed after me as I headed away from the many faces watching us. Emily looked her up and down, doubtful.

"What kind of trouble are we getting into tonight?" Nell asked happily, opening the door for me.

"Hey Baby," a voice behind me said, it was her friend from the seat at the bar.

"Miles?" I asked, stunned. He looked different, taller.

"Don't call her that anymore stupid." Nelly snapped. "She goes by Kid now. That's why it took forever for us to find you. Kid? Really? That's the best you could come up with?"

"Baby is not exactly the toughest name out there," I shrugged.

"Kid is better?"

"A little," I laughed. It was amazing how fast we could fall back in step, joking like old times. Emily was uncharacteristically quiet. She informed then though that: "She goes by that because that's what Dally called her."

"Dally? Dallas Winston? I heard he was dead."

"He ain't dead." Emily objected defensively. "He skipped town about a month ago. Left Babe his switchblade."

"So I heard." Nelly said, impressed. "Can I see it?" she asked as eagerly as we when had been kids. I flipped it out for a quick look and pocketed it again.

"You that orphan she was friends with on the south side?" Emily asked Nelly, squinting at her.

"Yep. I ain't an orphan anymore though."

"A Soc, huh?" Emily scoffed.

"You could say that." The two looked at each other, hard. I could feel the tension. It was pulsating through the air, so thick you could slice it with a knife and cover your toast with it. From the apprehensive look on Miles' face, he was thinking the same thing: there was gonna be trouble from these two. I could feel it, and I did not want trouble. More importantly, my brothers didn't want trouble either.

"Come on ladies." I interrupted. "There's a game tonight, first one of summer." That settled it for then. A game would take everyone's mind of everything else. There would be no trouble so long as there was baseball. If I could have only known how wrong I was.

A/N: What's going to happen when they reach the ball park? We'll see… Review and I'll post an up-date sooner. There will be more of the boys in this story soon too.


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